The Hunting of the Sparrow
by mamazano
Summary: Set in an AU out of my own eggnog induced fog. Lord Cutler Beckett has decided to celebrate Boxing Day in his own fashion…substituting the traditional Hunting of the Wren with another bird…Captain Jack Sparrow.
1. Christmas Eve

Author: mamazano

Title: THE HUNTING OF THE SPARROW

Rating: R (adult themes, sexual situations, implied slash)

Pairings: None deliberately

Disclaimer: Disney owns POTC, the OC's are mine

Summary: Set in an AU out of my own eggnog induced fog. Lord Cutler Beckett has decided to celebrate Boxing Day in his own fashion…substituting the traditional Hunting of the Wren with another bird…Captain Jack Sparrow.

-----

**The Hunting of the Sparrow**

**Chapter 1**

**Setting the Trap**

_The wren, the wren, the king of all birds,_

_St. Stephen's Day was caught in the furze,_

_Although he was little his honour was great,_

_Jump up me lads and give him a treat._

_ Traditional _

Port Royal, Jamaica – December 21st – Morning

"Everything is in place, sir."

Lord Beckett looked up from his papers as his clerk entered the room. He carefully blotted the document he'd been signing and held the sealing wax to the candle's flame, watching with satisfaction as the red wax dripped like blood upon the parchment. A fitting analogy he thought as he pressed his signet ring into the soft wax, sealing the fate of his nemesis, the notorious pirate, Jack Sparrow. A warrant for his arrest... provided he could be lured into the trap.

"And the girl?" Beckett inquired quietly. Mercer nodded and said confidently, "There will be no problem there. The boy swears she'll cooperate."

Beckett nodded his approval. "Excellent. All we have left to do now is wait."

----

Tortuga Harbor – December 21st – Midday

The crew of the _Black Pearl_ were eagerly preparing for the holidays to come, scrubbing the decks and polishing the brass. Their captain had offered them a liberal amount of coin and time ashore to celebrate in the many taverns and brothels of Tortuga. But first he wanted his ship to be in order, from stem to stern, and had set the crew to work early that morning.

While the bustle of preparation went on above decks, Captain Jack Sparrow sat alone in his cabin studying the chart in front of him. He was perhaps the only one on board ship not looking forward to Christmas. Memories he preferred would remain buried always seemed to surface this time of year, coming back to haunt him like so many ghosts. He swallowed a good portion of rum, the bottle already half empty though the sun had barely reached its zenith in the sky. Rum would not exorcise the ghosts, but would keep them at bay…temporarily.

He glanced up at the knock at the door. A young crewman, Charles Kavanagh, stood there, twisting his hat in his hands while glancing nervously around. He was new to the crew; they had picked him up off their last prize, a merchant ship out of Bristol. Irish from the look of him with a heavy brogue. He entered the cabin with trepidation, much to the captain's disconcertion.

"I don't bite," Jack told him with a wry grin. "Go ahead son, speak your mind."

The lad glanced around nervously once more and lowered his voice to barely a whisper. With his heavy brogue it was difficult to make out what he was saying…Jack caught snatches of words…sister…servant…mistreated…Beckett. At this last word Jack sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes. "Beckett you say…Lord Cutler Beckett?"

The boy nodded rapidly. Jack filled a glass on the table with rum and pushed it towards the boy. "Why don't you sit down?" The lad sat gingerly on the edge of the chair, glancing around again. "No one's goin' t' get yer back, son." Jack told him gently, as he stood up and went over and shut the door to the cabin. "Now, why don't you try to explain again…_slowly_ this time. Who or what is after your sister?"

The boy swallowed the rum gratefully and shut his eyes. Then, with great emotion he began to tell his tale.

----

Beckett House – December 24th – Afternoon

Molly Kavanagh finished stripping the linens from the guest rooms in the west wing. Her day had begun before dawn when she'd been woken by the urgent hissing of her roommate and sole friend in this world, Lucy O'Sullivan.

----

"_Molly! Wake up Molly! He's summoned ye again!" _

_A quiver of dread went through Molly as she hurriedly stripped off her light shift. In the room's darkness she fumbled with the buttons on her frock as her mind tried frantically to find another reason why he would summon her in this predawn hour. Shivering from the chill of the hour and apprehension for what was sure to come she slipped into her shoes before slipping silently out the door. Lucy watched her friend as she made her way across the yard, and crossed herself, a silent prayer on her lips. _

_The house was quiet, the only apparent activity coming from the kitchens. Molly made her way swiftly through the silent halls, cursing the day she ever heard of Lord Cutler Beckett. She paused outside his chambers and raised her hand to knock. He opened the door, wearing only a dressing gown of the finest silk, his hair tousled from sleep. He gave the girl a small smile and waved her into the room._

_She stood on the rug in the center of the room, averting her eyes from the rumpled sheets on the massive four poster bed. Her employer noted her nervousness with another small smile. He walked over and stood behind her, running his hand down her sleeve as he breathed the words into her ear._

"_Do you know what day it is?" She swallowed and said hoarsely, "Christmas Eve, sir." He pressed himself against her back, she could feel his arousal through the thin fabric of her skirt. "It is customary I believe, at this time of year, for the privileged class to give a little something to their staff in appreciation for the year's labors. Is this not true?" She stood as still as she could and swallowed again. "Yes, sir. On Boxing Day, sir."_

_He began to slowly unbutton her bodice as he spoke the next words softly, his breath hot upon her neck. "If your brother does not fail in his mission, on Boxing Day you will be free to go. Until then, I expect you to continue to serve me as usual. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" She closed her eyes and nodded, cheeks red in shame. "Yes, milord." _

----

Molly finished the guest rooms and turned to go down the rear stairs towards the kitchen area. Her path took her through the hall past Lord Beckett's study. She faltered in step as she saw the door was ajar. She could hear voices from within, one the sneering cold tones of Beckett's clerk, Mercer…a man that made her blood run cold from a mere glance. She did not want to appear to be eavesdropping and turned to find another route when a name caused her to freeze in her tracks.

"The bait has been taken milord. Kavanagh was able to convince Sparrow to leave Tortuga. He should be in custody by evening."

Molly held her breath, shrinking against the wall she crept closer to hear more. Lord Beckett answered his clerk with a note of satisfaction in his voice. "Finally."


	2. Christmas Day

FANFIC

Title: THE HUNTING OF THE SPARROW

Rating: R (mostly T but with adult themes)

Pairings: None deliberately

Disclaimer: Disney owns POTC, the OC's are mine

Summary: Set in an AU out of my own eggnog induced fog. Lord Cutler Beckett has decided to celebrate Boxing Day in his own fashion…substituting the traditional Hunting of the Wren with another bird…Captain Jack Sparrow.

-----

**The Hunting of the Sparrow**

**Chapter 2**

**The Trap is Sprung**

_We followed the wren three miles or more,_

_Three mile or more three miles or more._

_We followed the wren three miles or more,_

_At six o'clock in the morning._

_ Traditional _

Port Royal, Jamaica – December 25th – Dawn

The sand scrunched beneath the longboat's bow as they made shore in the predawn darkness. Moving silently along the beach the men reached a secluded area where they could speak without fear of discovery. Their mission's success was contingent on precise timing and they once more went over every detail of the plan.

"You're certain she'll be there?" Jack Sparrow peered cautiously around and added, "And she'll be alone?" The young Irishman nodded and whispered nervously, "Her note made mention of a roommate, but she's been given time off to see to her ailing mum. Molly'll be alone."

Gibbs shook his head and muttered beneath his breath. He thought the entire plan to be fool's folly and had done his best to dissuade Jack from coming to Port Royal, Christmas or not. The Captain had a soft spot for the weaker sex though, and the tale the boy had spun had been a heart wrenching one.

The story itself was not unique…it was one that thousands upon thousands of Irish men and women could tell. Deported from their own land and forced into servitude, indentured servants no better than slaves and treated more harshly, their plight was one that many turned a blind eye to. Yet Jack Sparrow was not one of them…and when Charles had described how his sister was being mistreated by Lord Beckett he had agreed to try and do something to help.

Jack turned to Gibbs and said in a cheery voice, "They'll never know we've been here. All abed at this hour, after last evening's festivities. We'll slip in, grab the bonny lass, and be back to the _Pearl _before the sun's risen proper."

Gibbs wasn't so sure. The town was crawling with soldiers, both British Navy and East India Company men. One wrong move and it would be the gallows for them all. He rolled his eyes but followed his Captain as he led them through the silent streets towards Beckett House. Gibbs was to keep a watch on the main road while Jack and the lad went to find the lass.

----

Molly was awake long before dawn. She had memorized the note before burning it and went over the instructions once again in her head. "Wait by the far gate before the cock crows. Alone. Do not tell a soul." She had slipped out without waking Lucy, knowing she would think that Molly had been summoned again if she woke and found her missing. Molly's cheeks reddened at the thought of what she'd had to endure these past months. No more. Charles was coming and he would free her from this horrid place and that loathsome man, Lord Beckett.

She wrapped her thin shawl around her shoulders and shivered in the chill of the morning. The sky was just beginning to lighten when she heard footsteps coming up the path. She waited until she heard his signal then hurried down the path and threw herself into his arms.

"Oh Charles, you came. I feared you'd been captured." She clung to him as he hushed her.

"We best hurry," a voice said from behind her. She turned to see who had spoken. Her first impression was of dark eyes, made larger by the dark kohl surrounding them. Kind eyes, sparkling with excitement.

"Captain Sparrow," Charles whispered the introduction. "My sister, Margaret Kavanagh." The pirate bowed slightly and bestowed a golden smile on her. "Pleased to meet you. Now, we best be going before the others awaken." He turned to go and was brought up suddenly by the sharp points of a dozen bayonets pointed at him.

"Leaving so soon?" a familiar voice crooned. Out of the morning mist stepped none other than Lord Beckett himself, a smug look on his face as he walked up to Jack and smiled. "You really should be more careful who you choose to trust, Jack. I would have thought you'd have learned that by now." He motioned with his stick and two of his men disarmed Jack and shackled him.

Molly turned in frightened despair and clutched Charles' arm. "You betrayed him?" He turned and said with eyes flashing, "How else was I to free ye? Do not judge me, Margaret Kavanagh." A chuckle behind her made her blood freeze. Lord Beckett stood there, a look of amused malice on his face. "Oh yes, Miss Kavanagh. Your brother is no better than you when it come to scruples. He was willing to betray this man's trust almost as eagerly as you were to spread your legs for me."

She turned, horrified at his words and went to strike him. He easily stopped her hand, clenching his fingers painfully around her wrist. "Did you think I would give up such a pretty…_and willing_ wench such as yourself so easily? Let me remind you that your brother is naught but a pirate himself. To pay for your little outburst now, he can swing alongside his Captain here…and you will remain in my services." He shoved her away and said to his men, "Seize the boy, and fetch some irons for her as well."

Charles turned on Molly with loathing in his eyes and said in disgust, "If I had known you'd sold yourself to him like a common whore I would never have come. You have disgraced the name of Kavanagh. I no longer claim you as kin." He turned his back on the weeping girl and spat on the ground. Jack watched the exchange without expression, noting the lack of resemblance between the two. Whereas Charles was fair and freckled, Molly was dark, her black hair and eyes in sharp contrast. Even more so were their accents. The brother spoke in a thick brogue while the sister's was more refined and lilting, a bit of Welsh in her vowels. A curiosity. There was not much more time to reflect on this or anything else as they were escorted away towards the prison cells at the fort.

----

Fort Charles Jail – December 25th – Morning

The morning sun slanted in through the high barred window of the cell. Jack Sparrow lounged on the stone ledge underneath, hat tilted over his eyes. His cellmate, the traitorous blaggard Charles Kavanagh paced nervously back and forth, back and forth until Jack could stand it no longer.

"Son, either find yourself a place to set or I'll find one for you." The young Irishman slumped down on the floor and stared dejectedly at the ground. Jack watched him, a mixture of amusement and pity on his face. "Not quite according to plan, ay?" The younger man looked up and asked in dismay, "Are ye not worried none? They be planning on hangin' us come sunrise." Jack shrugged and tilted his hat back over his face. "Worrying won't change the facts, boy. Perhaps your bonny sister will put in a good word for you."

The boy scrambled to his feet and clenched his fists in anger. "She's no sister of mine, no better than a brazen hussy, that one. I'm well rid of her." Jack looked up in surprise. "She was only doing whatever necessary, same as you." The boy started to retort but Jack stopped him, finger raised. "Let me guess. You're going to tell me that joining me crew under false pretenses, convincing me to sail to an enemy port in order to betray me and me crew, subjecting us to arrest and certain death, is a nobler and more honorable deed." The boy glared at Jack and said in a scathing tone, "Yes. At least when I thought the one I were rescuing were honorable."

Their conversation was interrupted by the jingling of keys and sound of footsteps in the corridor. "Lord Beckett would like a word with you," one guard said as he clapped irons around Jack's wrists and led him away. Jack gave a glittering grin to the boy and said with a mock salute, "I'll give your regards to his lordship. Oh and bonny Miss Molly as well." The boy watched the pirate saunter casually away before slumping back down onto the ground and burying his face in his hands.

----

Lord Beckett's Office – December 25th – Midday

"Do you know what tomorrow is?" Beckett looked inquiringly at Jack who stood just inside the door, absently rubbing his wrists where the metal shackles had cut into them. Jack shrugged and said casually, "Course I do. Boxing Day." Beckett smiled and said smoothly, "Yes. And are you familiar with that charming little tradition known as the Hunting of the Wren?"

Jack frowned but didn't answer. Beckett smiled and said softly, "It is held to be unlucky to kill a wren on any day apart from Boxing Day. On this day though, the boys would set out into the wood to hunt down the wren and kill it. Then they would tie the dead bird to the top of a pole and parade him through the town."

He came over and stood close to Jack, whispering the next words. "Seeing there are no wrens to hunt I have decided to substitute a _Sparrow_ instead." Jack froze for one moment then turned and smiled, arms wide. "It's not the same though, is it? It's not like one would readily settle for a simple sparrow when they really seek the king of birds himself, the wily wren?"

Jack continued to move about the room, flitting from place to place, all the while moving his hands about in a hypnotic manner. "Think about it. The entire town, waiting in anticipation. They'll want what is their due and that is not just me hanging from the gallows is it?"

Beckett frowned and said, "Then what is, Jack?"

Jack Sparrow spread his arms wide again and said cheerfully, "Why the whole celebration, ay? They'll be wanting all the trappings, the parades and the parties. The fox hunts." He continued his mesmerizing waltz around the room, shaping pictures with his hands. "And Mummers! They will want them as well. And spiced rum. Lots of spiced rum."

Jack had maneuvered himself next to the French doors that led out to veranda. With a smile and a quick glance he made his move, bolting out the doors and over the parapet.

----

Fox and Hound Tavern – Port Royal – Christmas Night

The patrons at the tavern that night were full of good cheer, drinking to the season amidst the glittering ribbons and greenery that decked the walls. A small group of musicians played a rousing jig in one corner while the buxom wenches plied their trade among the drunken sailors that crowded the room. There were no solders to be found here, they preferred the _Rose and Crown_ or the_ King's Arms_ further down the road. Considering that every third building in Port Royal was either a tavern or a brothel, it did not matter much which pub you happened to stumble into.

Unless you were a notorious pirate recently escaped from jail.

Jack Sparrow, his eyes darting around as he scanned the crowd, limped into the throng of singing revelers and made his way towards the back of the room, his arm draped around the shoulders of a young woman. From all appearances he was just another gent out spreading a bit of Christmas cheer. The two made their way to an empty table near the back door of the tavern where Jack sank gratefully into a chair. He winced slightly as he situated himself, causing his companion to glance worriedly at him.

"Are you sure you will be able to make the journey?" she asked him with concern in her eyes. Jack patted her hand and flashed a quick gold rimmed grin at her. "No worries. A bit of rum and I'll be right as ninepence." She looked at him doubtfully but signaled the serving maid to bring a bottle. He studied her for a moment from under his lashes…she was a beauty that was for sure. Dark lustrous curls falling down almost to her waist. Dark eyes, mysterious with a slight Oriental tilt to them. Fair complexion, even fairer figure, with just enough curves to make a man want to explore further. Didn't look Irish. Not one bit.

----

Jack hadn't really a plan when he leapt off the balcony earlier that day. His fall had been broken by a rather large bougainvillea which, though cushioning his fall, added to his misery by stabbing him mercilessly with a multitude of sharp thorns. That and the twisted ankle were what he wanted the rum for…besides the usual. His fall had also been witnessed by one of the chamber maids, the same one he'd had the pleasure of meeting briefly that morning. Molly Kavanagh had taken one look at the pirate struggling in the bushes and made up her mind.

With the alarm being heralded from every corner she had whisked the fugitive into the house and into one of the guest rooms without thinking of anything, propriety included…only the wish to repay the man for his brave gesture earlier. For it had not been she who betrayed Jack Sparrow's trust… and realized that for him to have risked all to save her, without even having made her acquaintance, was a generous act of kindness well worth reciprocating.

Jack Sparrow, for his part, had acted the perfect gentleman and assured her that he would take her along if she wanted to go with him… providing they could sneak back out of the house as easily as they had snuck in.

----

So now they would wait, until the last watch was changed before making their way back to where Jack's ship was anchored. By Jack's reckoning, the last place Lord Beckett would look would be right under his nose, expecting him to flee, not stay around town. Gibbs had been given orders to take the_ Pearl _to a designated location if anyone fell behind. They would have to travel on foot, across part of the island, but if all went well, they should be able to meet back up with Jack's crew by dawn.


	3. Boxing Day

FANFIC

Title: THE HUNTING OF THE SPARROW

Rating: R (mostly T but with adult themes)

Pairings: None deliberately

Disclaimer: Disney owns POTC, the OC's are mine

Summary: Set in an AU out of my own eggnog induced fog. Lord Cutler Beckett has decided to celebrate Boxing Day in his own fashion…substituting the traditional Hunting of the Wren with another bird…Captain Jack Sparrow.

-----

**The Hunting of the Sparrow**

**Chapter 3**

**The Bird is Flown**

_We have travelled many miles, over hedges and stiles_

_In search of our King, unto you we bring_

_We have powder and shot, to conquer the lot_

_We have cannon and ball, to conquer them all_

_Old Christmas is past, twelve tide is the last_

_And we bid you adieu, great joy to the New. _

_ Traditional _

----

Fort Charles Jail – Boxing Day – Dawn

The guards came for him at dawn. Charles Kavanagh had spent a sleepless night in fearful anxiety of what the morning would bring. Convinced that Jack Sparrow had made a deal with Beckett to gain his own release, the boy held no such hopes for himself. Cursing the day he'd ever saw fit to trust either Beckett or Sparrow his thoughts then drifted to Molly. Sweet Margaret Crichton, not his sister as he had told Beckett and Sparrow, but his betrothed. Or was. The thought of his beloved sullied and deflowered made the bile rise in his throat. Better she had taken her own life than let another take her maidenhood.

The guards interrupted his thoughts as they placed him in irons and led him out into the faint light of the new day. To his surprise though, Charles was not taken to the gallow tree but to the office of Lord Beckett himself. Seething inside at the thought of that arrogant bastard touching his Molly, he clenched his teeth and waited. And waited. Sitting shackled in the chair with a guard at either side, Charles waited. Finally, after almost an hour had passed Beckett came into the room followed closely by his clerk Mercer. The two of them broke off their conversation when the noticed Charles sitting there.

"The East India Trading Company is in need of your services," Lord Beckett began without preamble. Charles jumped to his feet and shouted angrily, "I'll have no part of you, except at the end of a sword." Beckett was unperturbed and ignored the angry young man, moving over to his desk he held up a document and said smoothly, "You face the hangman's noose. Something your dearly betrothed was not prepared to do for you apparently." Beckett let a small smile of satisfaction creep over his lips at the startled look on the boy's face. "Ah, you did not think I believed your story of brotherly love? No, your charming fiancé was more than willing to give herself to me, in hopes of better prospects." The young man had to be physically restrained by the guards as he surged forward in fury. Beckett raised an eyebrow and said nonchalantly, "I would hate to see you go to the gallows under false chivalry. I assure you, I was not the first to bed your fair maiden. She was quite knowledgeable and shall I say, accommodating. No, your loyalty is gravely misplaced."

The boy sank back into his chair and stared in dismay at his captor. "You lie," he said coldly. Beckett smiled and walked over and poured himself a glass of brandy. Sipping his drink he smiled and said, "I assure you, I am quite capable of knowing the difference. Nonetheless, there are graver matters at hand than the virtue of you betrothed." He took another sip of his brandy and added in an offhanded manner, "The bird has flown, unfortunately, and taken your dearly beloved with him."

----

Woods – Boxing Day – Midday

Jack and the girl trudged along through the woods, the tangle of vines and foliage obscuring the faint cart path they were following. Not your typical forest of stately pines and hardwoods…the flora and fauna of Jamaica ran to a more riotous mixture of palms and palmettos along with the pines and oaks. Everywhere the vines entangled the trees, and flowering shrubs lent a beauty as well as fragrance to their path.

The girl had not spoken since they'd left the tavern, slipping out the back door and down the alleyway during that ungodly time betwixt night proper and dawn. Jack had tried to draw her out earlier, asking her about Charles. She had closed the subject firmly but resolutely, in a manner that even Jack Sparrow was not about to broach again. One thing he was able to determine, before the subject had been closed…the traitorous Charles was NOT her brother.

They reached the secluded cove where the _Pearl _was supposed to be anchored by midday. The sky was lowering with a storm in the offing, best they get aboard ship and make sail before it broke. Relieved to find his ship where expected Jack whistled a signal across the short stretch of water and was answered by the lowering of a boat to fetch him from shore.

It wasn't until she was helped aboard by a scruffy looking pirate that Molly realized what she'd traded for. At first, the thought of escaping Lord Beckett's lecherous clutches had propelled her, then the stinging words of Charles rang in her ears as she'd aided her would be rescuer…the same man betrayed so heartlessly by her betrothed. Looking around she realized how precarious her position was, a lone woman on a ship full of pirates. Jack noted her dismay and said in a loud voice, for all present to hear that she was a guest of the Captain's and therefore off limits to all others for the duration of their voyage.

He had then rather ceremoniously escorted her to his cabin. Once inside she swallowed and closed her eyes, expecting the same as she'd had to endure these past months from Lord Beckett. Jack went over to the table and drop heavily into the chair, thankful to be off his injured leg. He waited for the girl to sit as well but she remained frozen in the center of the cabin, eyes closed, pale and tightlipped.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked gently, startling her to where she at least opened her eyes. "A seat? Something to eat, perhaps?" He watched her as she gazed at him in wonder. "You are not going to…I mean, you don't want to…" She blushed and stammered, at a loss as to why he hadn't already ravished her.

"What I want and what I do are not always in accord, lass. And no, I am not going to…what was that again?" He teased her so that she blushed even more. "My apologies, sir," she said with a slight bob. "His lordship…" Jack turned and said sharply, "I am NOT his bloody lordship." She cringed at his tone but held her ground. Her lips quivered but she said gamely, "Then perhaps I might have that drink you offered, sir."

Jack rummaged around and found a not so clean glass into which he poured a good dollop of rum. He came around the table and handed it to her. "My apologies for being short with you. Not a favorite of mine, his bloody lordship." He gestured with his hand and said, "Sit. No one with bother you." She nodded and said meekly, "Thank you, sir." He whirled and said in an aggrieved tone, "And quit calling me bloody sir!" His expression softened as he saw the alarm in her eyes. "Name's Jack. Or Captain Sparrow if you need be formal. But Jack'll do." She nodded and smiled, her face suddenly transformed, her beauty even more apparent. "Thank you, Captain Sparrow." Jack swallowed and smiled back, his best golden grin. "No worries, luv. Saving damsels in distress, one of my specialties."

----

Port Royal Harbor – Boxing Day – Afternoon

The Company fleet was being readied for sail, the crews hastily recalled from their celebrations in the many taverns and brothels dotting the town. Lord Cutler Beckett would sail on his flag ship, _Endeavour_, with the young Charles Kavanagh as an unhappy accomplice. By Beckett's reckoning, Jack Sparrow could not have gotten far, and it would be only a matter of time before he was once again in custody…or in the depths of Davy Jones' Locker, a place Sparrow was well acquainted with. Either way was a satisfactory conclusion to the business at hand. Charles Kavanagh had seen reason, with some persuasion and would bear witness to the treachery he endured on the _Black Pearl_ while he was an unwilling hostage.

Mr. Mercer would accompany them as well…always eager to be in on the kill, he especially relished the idea of the young maid meeting her comeuppance. Never pleased with his employers dalliances with the household maids, Mercer was especially disgusted with the latest…a comely lass that had appeared more frequently than any of the others in his master's bedchambers. A place which Mercer longed to be invited, but had yet to achieve. The young man Charles though, he held potential, and Mercer vowed to find a way to unleash some of his pent up frustration before the boy was sent to the gallows. For it was certain that once Lord Beckett regained what he felt was rightly his…Sparrow's demise and the return of the girl, he would have no further need for the boy. If he played his cards right, Mercer could come out ahead on this little venture.

The fleet set sail just before sunset as Beckett was determined not to lose any more time in harbor while his quarry was near at hand. They would set course for the island of Tortuga, a likely stopping point for the pirates. If nothing else, information could always be gleaned from the many derelict sots that teamed within the island's numerous taverns and brothels. Oh yes, information was easily bought in Tortuga…where every man, and woman had a price they were willing to accept. Even for those things they thought they'd never sell.

----

Black Pearl – Boxing Day – Night

Jack Sparrow glanced over at the young girl, peacefully asleep on his bunk. After several glasses of rum and much convincing on his part, the girl had finally relaxed…falling asleep with her head on the table. He'd carried her, wincing as the extra weight made his ankle throb, and tucked her gently into his bunk. She was young, not barely 20 years of age…and beautiful. Her life was complicated enough without a pirate old enough to be her father interfering. Jack sighed as he pulled the rough blanket around her shoulders. "Sleep well, luv," he said softly. Not sure what her future held, at least here on his ship she could sleep in peace.

Jack made his way out on deck and to the helm, joining Gibbs as he guided the _Pearl _through the tranquil Caribbean night. The storm that had threatened earlier had passed by and the sky was ablaze with stars, their twinkling light reflecting off the dark sea, fragmenting into a multitude of sparkling gems. Gibbs nodded to his captain and stepped aside to allow him to take the wheel. Jack's hands caressed the smooth wood, his touch light and loving. The ship surged slightly at his touch then settled once again, her canvas flapping a response to his unspoken words. Gibbs smiled slightly, it was always so when Jack took the wheel. The ship sensed his presence and let him know she was ready and willing to take him wherever he wished to go.

"What now, Cap'n?" Gibbs asked quietly. "They'll be looking for you, for both of you." Jack nodded but didn't let the thought of Cutler Beckett ruin the tranquility of the night. "No different than before, ay?" He adjusted course slightly and pulled out his compass. "We'll sail north for a bit, perhaps put in around Havana. Company ships won't dare follow us there." He smiled, his thoughts drifting to the sleeping girl below in his bunk. He owed her his freedom, the least he could do is give her an adventure to remember him by. Havana town would do for now…and from there he would allow his compass to guide him.

To be continued…perhaps


	4. On the Third Day of Christmas

-----

**The Hunting of the Sparrow**

**Chapter 4**

**The Net is Cast**

_Droolin, Droolin, where's your nest?_

_Tis in the bush that I love best_

_In the tree the holly tree,_

_Where all the boys do follow me._

_Traditional_

----

Black Pearl – December 27 – Morning

"What do you mean you want to go back?"

Jack was waving his hands around in an exasperated fashion at the young girl standing defiantly in the center of his cabin. She had her arms crossed and a determined look on her face…no trace of the skittish young lass from the night before.

"I cannot go and leave her there, Captain Sparrow. She's all I've got left in this world."

Jack bit back the angry retort that threatened…and hastily swallowed some rum instead. Heaven only knew he needed it at the moment. Some gratitude, he thought. Going through all that trouble to save her only to have her insist he turn his ship around and take her back.

"So even if I were to turn me ship around…and I'm not saying I'm a going to…just how do you plan on getting Miss…Lucy was it…away? Jack suspected there was more to this story of hers than she were telling. Much like that worthless fiancé of hers. Jack hadn't truly bought his story of brotherly love either…the boy was too intense, for one…too nervous. The abuse part he believed, having seen first hand how cruel Lord Cutler Beckett could be.

Perhaps Jack had just felt like being chivalrous when he'd agreed to rescue fair maiden. Which rankled him even more now that said damsel was wanting to put herself back in harm's way to save her friend. How many damsels were there on that blasted island? Did she expect him to rescue them all?

"I beg of you, Captain Sparrow. With me gone there's no one else. He'll be summoning _her_ now!" The girl shuddered at the thought, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. She came over and placed her hand on his arm, pleading with her eyes as she looked up at him. Jack felt a surge of sympathy for the child…and then something else. Alone in this world, no where to go. Abandoned and rejected by her betrothed…

She needed a place to go all right… and here on his ship was obviously not that place. Jack swallowed another good dollop of rum and sighed deeply before heading to the helm. Blast the woman-child, with those dark eyes…the girl was too beautiful for her own good. He fought the thoughts rising in his mind and elsewhere and adjusted his breeches along with their course. Bloody cradle robber he'd be. Best for them all if he did take her back.

----

Endeavour – December 27 – Midday

Lord Beckett was in a foul mood. There had been no sign of the _Black Pearl_, as if the ship had been swallowed by the sea. Not that Beckett would have minded, but he would have preferred to be the one to cause it. No sign of Sparrow, no sign of the girl. Frustrated and irritable he summoned his clerk and instructed him to have the boy brought up from the brig. Perhaps another round of questioning was in order…after all, the boy had been part of Sparrow's crew for the past few weeks. He would know where they might be heading, if not Tortuga.

Mercer smiled. Questioning was his specialty, one that he had perfected in his employment under Beckett. With minimal restrictions placed upon him, Mercer had learned how to extract the information requested from even the most recalcitrant of persons. He stood off to one side as Charles was brought into the room. Faint from lack of food and sleep, he stumbled into the room, eyes wide with apprehension.

Lord Beckett signaled the guards to remove the shackles and gestured to the boy to sit down. Pouring each of them a glass of brandy he walked over and held out the glass with a small smile. "Now Charles, perhaps you would care to cooperate with us. I assure you, it is in your best interest." He gave the boy his most benign look, sipping his brandy he waited for the lad to respond.

"You have taken and destroyed all I hold dear in this world. Why should I help you?" Charles glared at Beckett with bloodshot eyes, red rimmed as if he'd shed a few tears in the isolation of the brig. Beckett waved his hand and said casually, "Nonsense. You would have found out the truth eventually and then what would you have? I am offering what amounts to your freedom from servitude…in return for your cooperation." He sipped his drink, content to wait. Patience was something Beckett was very good at. Like a cat at a mouse hole, he was willing to wait for his quarry to appear…and equally ready to pounce in an instant.

"What do you want to know?" the boy asked belligerently. Beckett smiled and leaned down close to his ear and whispered softly, "Everything. Where the _Black Pearl_ may be heading, what their next plan of action may be…" He paused and stood up and added with a satisfied smirk. "We already know who Jack Sparrow is bedding, don't we?"

The boy jumped up in fury only to find Mercer waiting, stiletto at his throat. "Should I summon the guards, milord?" Beckett smiled and said softly, "Oh I don't believe that will be necessary, Mr. Mercer. You see, Mr. Kavanagh _wants_ to cooperate. He just needs a bit more convincing, that is all."

Beckett House – December 27 – Midday

Lucy O'Sullivan shook out the blankets on the four poster bed, glancing around nervously as she worked. This was the first time she'd had to do his lordship's room, a task usually left for Molly. But Molly was gone, now weren't she. Without even a hint to her dearest friend what she was planning. The girl looked around again, her upper lip perspiring slightly as she imagined what might have taken place inside these chambers. Molly had never spoken about it, never said a word. Silent as a ghost that one.

Lucy flung back her red hair and glanced at herself in the floor length ornately carved mirror standing in the corner. His lordship would have one in his room, wouldn't he? Vain about his appearance, always straightening his cuffs. Lucy wondered briefly how he looked without the powder and the frills. A bit short perhaps but she'd heard tales of his prowess from the scullery maids. Stamina like a bull they said. Her cheeks reddened at the thoughts she was having. But 'twas natural for a girl to wonder, and being in his chambers, his smell on the pillows and linens…a musky smell mingled with roses.

She picked up the silk robe where it had been tossed carelessly over a chair and held it to her nose, breathing in his scent that clung to it. She could feel the wetness between her legs as she anticipated what was to come. Without Molly to summon, who else was there? Lucy was no fool when it came to survival, and being in her master's favor was a guarantee that she would. Word was he were expected that evening…she best be ready. With another sniff she hung the robe on a peg and went about her chores, a small smile on her lips.

----

Endeavour – December 27th – Evening

"Do you need further convincing?" The question was softly spoken as Lord Beckett stood watching the scene being played out in front of him. The boy was on his knees, his breathing coming in short, shallow pants. Mr. Mercer stood over him, flushed and sated he buttoned his breeches with a satisfied smirk on his face.

The boy have proven tougher than he looked and it had taken several round of _persuasion_ on Mercer's part to get him to where he was now, trembling in shame and revulsion, but perhaps ready to cooperate fully. Lord Beckett had not partaken in the festivities, content to watch as the boy learned first hand what it meant to defy Lord Cutler Beckett. Besides, it would bring the self righteous Charles down a few notches, and Beckett had learned that there was nothing more dangerous than the sanctimonious. Oh yes, the more humiliation, the more cooperation. Not a bad motto to live by.

Not to mention the arousal watching Mercer at work always brought. Better than a whore…and cheaper. Beckett smiled to himself as the boy, eyes closed whispered hoarsely, "No, milord." Beckett nodded to Mercer and said, "Excellent." The boy was hauled to his feet and stood swaying before the diminutive lord. "Now, Charles…this is what I expect you to do…"

----

Black Pearl – December 27th – Evening

The evening meal had been cleared and the lamps lit. Jack leaned back in his chair, feet propped on the table as was his custom, picking his teeth with the point of his knife as he observed the girl. She had eaten without reservation, a healthy appetite, it appeared she was no worse for wear from her adventures. A bit of conversation had lent a bit of history to the mysterious Molly.

She was young…barely twenty, and had been in service since she was fifteen, first to the Governor of Port Royal and later to Lord Cutler Beckett, who had seen her during one of his visits to the Governor's mansion and bought her and her friend Lucy to serve as chambermaids at Beckett House. Indentured servants, basically slaves…her time of servitude was to be up once Charles came through with his end of the bargain.

"I didn't know, Captain Sparrow, I swear!" She hid her face in her hands and began to weep, ashamed at how his trust had been betrayed. Jack cleared his throat uncomfortably, and hovered with fluttering hands, wanting to comfort the girl but afraid to touch. Finally he resorted to his tried and true method of crisis aversion…rum.

"Here, drink this." He held out the glass with a hopeful smile, relieved to see her resurface, a bit wet but bright eyed. "Thank you, sir…er, Captain Sparrow." She smiled weakly and swallowed the rum without hesitation. At his raised eyebrow she said shyly, "My pa he had a tavern, before the purge."

Seeing she was calmer Jack finally asked her what was nagging at the back of his mind. "How did Charles Kavanagh come to be working with Lord Beckett?" Molly frowned at the mention of Charles and said coldly, "He worked in the stables, was there before I arrived. Not sure how he came to be caught up in all this…" she waved her arm vaguely around the room and said with fire in her eyes, "If I had known he were planning this I would never have agreed. Please believe me!"

Jack held up his hands and said gently, "I believe you, luv. I see your dearly beloved didn't see fit to tell you." She calmed down and swallowed before continuing in a soft voice. "Charles Kavanagh is not by dearly beloved, Captain Sparrow." Jack raised an eyebrow at this but didn't comment. She sat for a moment studying her hands in her lap, trying to decide whether to trust him or not. Her decision made, she squared her shoulders and said firmly, "My dearly beloved is Patrick McKee, a pirate…and a good man."


	5. On the Fourth Day of Christmas

Author: mamazano

Title: THE HUNTING OF THE SPARROW

Rating: R (adult themes, sexual situations, implied slash)

Pairings: None deliberately

Disclaimer: Disney owns POTC, the OC's are mine

Summary: Set in an AU out of my own eggnog induced fog. Lord Cutler Beckett has decided to celebrate Boxing Day in his own fashion…substituting the traditional Hunting of the Wren with another bird…Captain Jack Sparrow.

-----

**The Hunting of the Sparrow**

**Chapter 5**

**The Bird is Snared**

_As I was going to Killenaule,_

_I met a wren upon the wall._

_I took me stick and knocked him down,_

_And brought him in to Carrick Town._

_Traditional_

----

Black Pearl – December 28th – Morning

"Well Cap'n, I said it before and I'm saying it now. It's not but fool's folly."

Jack Sparrow squared his shoulders and said resolutely, "Mr. Gibbs, I am well aware of your sentiments on said subject. But, as I am Captain of this ship, and by virtue of being said Captain, I'll be the one giving orders. Savvy?"

Gibbs crossed his arms defiantly and squared off with his Captain. "But, being as everything's an equal share… that means choosin' our next destination as well. And the crew…meaning me as well, are not fancying seeing the New Year in at the end of a noose!"

The two men glared at each other nose to nose for a moment. Gibbs was the first to break the silence, turning away he said with a sigh, "Let me go talk to the gents again." He shook his head and went down the steps to the main deck cursing the day they'd ever let a woman on board. Always said it were bad luck, and this was only proving him right. Bad luck indeed, to sail back into an enemy port with the entire Royal Navy and East India fleet waiting for 'em. Ol' Jack had done some mighty daft things in their long acquaintance and this was no exception.

Jack took the helm as he thought back on the conversation he'd had with the young woman the night before. He hadn't bought her story any more than that of Charles Kavanagh. Having been the perpetrator of falsehoods for most of his adult life Jack prided himself on being able to recognize one. Their stories never rung true from the start. The emotions, the acting was all overboard, downright theatrical in fact.

Then, on top of that the girl goes and claims to have another lover, a pirate no less. Jack shook his head and wondered if she really took him for such a fool. Well, there was one way to find out. Gibbs was right though, no reason to risk the health of his crew or ship by chasing after a will-o'-the-wisp. He'd take the girl back…alone.

----

Port Royal – December 28th – Morning

Beckett House was a bustle of activity in preparation for his lordship's return. Word was he had not found the pirate he'd been after nor the young chambermaid that had run off with him and subsequently was in a right foul mood. The remaining staff did not want to give their master any reason to find fault with any one of them. The house sparkled from top to bottom, the kitchens were a flurry of activity as well, having had news the Governor himself was dining there that evening.

Lucy took extra care that morning before dressing, sponging herself and brushing her auburn hair to a healthy sheen before pinning it up. Her hair was her one vanity, falling almost to her waist in a cascade of coppery curls. A full figured girl, with ample bosom and hips, she could turn a man's head…and had, on more than one occasion. Nothing like that slip of a girl, Molly. Timid little thing, she had flitted around the house like a will-o'-the-wisp…enough to make one nervous just looking at her. Comely, but shy…she'd kept her own council, never joining in on the conversations in the servant's quarters. Lucy missed her, but was a pragmatic soul. Opportunities came rarely to one in her station. And Molly's untimely departure provided opportunity enough for the ambitious and self serving Lucy O'Sullivan.

----

Fort Charles Jail – December 28th – Midday

The guards were sympathetic, helping the boy as he stumbled with painful steps along the corridor. They'd seen worse in their time, some crippled to where they could only crawl. Lord Beckett must have called off his henchman before he could do worse…which suggested there was more in store for the poor lad. The two men shook their heads as they exchanged looks over the boy's hunched figure. The gallows would be the lesser of evils before long.

----

Black Pearl – December 28th – Dusk

Jack Sparrow gave Gibbs last minute instructions before climbing down into the boat bobbing alongside the Pearl. The girl had gone ahead and now waited, hands folded demurely in her lap. She wasn't fooling Jack one bit with that act, but he saw no reason to call her bluff just yet. Best let the Pearl get clear of the area first. The plan was for Gibbs to sail the Pearl to Old Harbour and wait. If Jack did not get word to him in two days time he was to go on to Tortuga.

Jack slid down onto the seat of the boat and took up the oars, rowing smoothly towards a small island some distance away. They would wait there until morning… in the meantime Jack planned on getting a bit more information out of the lass. He would start with friendly persuasion and see what materialized. After all, he had all night…and spending a night alone on a beach, with a comely young lass was not the worse fate he could imagine. Best save his imagination for the days to come.

----

Beckett House – December 28th – Evening

The table had been cleared and the men had retired to the library for their after dinner port and pipes. The group was small… the Governor along with his Secretary, another minor nobleman just arrived from England as well as the Commodore from Fort Charles, one James Norrington. The men had made mostly small talk over dinner, not to alarm the women present, but now behind closed doors the truth could be spoken frankly, a truth that was disconcerting at best.

There were rumors, an undercurrent of dissent among the Scottish and Irish servants employed in the colonies. This dissent was being fueled by their charismatic leader, a pirate that went by the name Red Legs Greaves, born into slavery in Barbados and now a feared but respected pirate captain. Rumor was that an underground movement had been formed and was spreading a web of dissent from Barbados to Jamaica and beyond.

The common consensus from the British loyalists in the colonies was that there was little threat from a rag tag band of Irish slaves, a majority being woman. Lord Beckett didn't offer his own opinion but found it curious that the current unrest in his own household would coincide so conveniently with these rumors.

The dinner party broke up around eleven, the carriages being called round for the guests to depart. Commodore Norrington was the last guest to leave, lingering behind until her could have a private audience with Lord Beckett.

"Were you able to learn anything from the boy?" he inquired of Beckett as the two stood together outside the house, the star filled sky lending a soft light to the grounds. Beckett shrugged slightly. "He could not verify the whereabouts of Sparrow but did finally reveal the meeting place of the insurgents." Beckett let his lips curl in just the hint of a smile and added, "It took quite some persuasion just to glean that much information." Norrington smiled grimly. He was well aware of Beckett's persuasive techniques.

"Will you be questioning the boy further?" he asked, curious as to whether he'd have a living or deceased body to deal with come sunrise. Beckett surprised him though. "No, I believe we'll let the boy stew for a while. I have found that anticipation of what is to come as good a persuasive method as the actual deed. Don't you agree, Commodore?"

Norrington didn't answer. He didn't agree with Lord Beckett's tactics, but had sworn to uphold the laws. He would not interfere. He closed his mind to the memories of a similar situation, where he'd been the one needing the persuading…

----

Gun Island – December 28th – Night

The fire gave a comforting warmth and light to the scene. Jack looked over at the girl, huddled in the sand, a coarse blanket around her shoulders and remembered another beach… another girl… another lifetime ago. That time he HAD been played for the fool, something he swore he'd never do again. He got up and sauntered over, rum bottle in hand and plopped down in the sand next to her.

"Warm enough?" he asked amiably. She nodded, staring into the fire, her face expressionless. Jack frowned and held out the bottle. "Drink?" She stirred and looked at him, her eyes pools of darkness that could drown the unwary. She reached out a slim arm and took the rum, swallowing a good portion before handing it back. "Thank you," she said, a small smile on her face.

Jack swallowed and looked away. Blast! How was he to get information out of her with those damn eyes devouring his soul? He chugged some rum and steeled himself. He'd bested harpies, sirens, krakens…a mere slip of a girl would not be his downfall. Scrunching over closer to her he rested on one elbow, stretching out in the sand and waved his free hand about.

"Ever seen a sky so full of stars?" She glanced at the sky then at him, and said softly, "Makes one feel free." There it was again…an infinite sadness, her eyes reflecting pain that no one her age should know. He resisted the desire to take her in his arms and make her forget her sorrow. This was _not_ going according to plan.

Clearing his throat he began again. "Tell me about Charles." She sighed and began tracing a pattern in the sand with her finger. "There's not much to tell, really. He was working for Lord Beckett when I arrived. Lucy took a shine to him right away but my heart belonged to someone else." She frowned and added, "Not that it stopped Charles. He wanted me from the start." She sighed again and her voice faltered. "He was the one to tell me about Patrick…how he'd been captured."

Jack frowned but said nothing, waiting for her to continue. She was silent for some time then said in a soft whisper, "They hung him. Along with the rest of his crew." She put her head down on her knees, her shoulders shaking as she wept silent tears. Jack crept closer and reached out, wanting to comfort the poor girl, tentatively placing his arm around her shoulders. To his surprise she turned and buried her face in his shirt, sobbing again his chest. Jack stroked her hair, trying to comfort her, fighting the urge to do more.

She regained control and sat back up, wiping her eyes. "Forgive me, Captain Sparrow." He sighed and said, "Call me Jack. Please?" Nodding she smiled and reached out for the rum. "You must think me a fool," she said softly. Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "Not at all. 'Tis normal to grieve." Molly shook her head, her curls flowing over his arm like a soft shower. "I barely knew him, you know. I was only sixteen when we met. Patrick was much older…and experienced. And so funny. Oh the stories he could tell!" She leaned against Jack and sighed. "He took me around to the shops and bought me trinkets. Promised to bring me pearls on his next visit." She fell silent. Then, in a small voice she added, "I let him stay with me one night. It was my first time. He was so gentle…"

Jack couldn't do it. He removed his arm casually, getting up to tend the fire. He couldn't be the one to replace her pirate. As tempting as it were. He excused himself and stepped out of the light where he took a few moments to compose himself. The last thing he needed was to get ensnared with a girl half his age looking for a knight in shining armor to come save her. As soon as he could he was heading his ship the other way.

----

Beckett House – December 28th – Midnight

He summoned her.

Lucy dressed hurriedly, her heart beating wildly. Running a quick brush through her hair she practically ran across the yard towards the silent house ahead. Slipping in through the kitchen she made her way to his chambers, pausing to catch her breath and slow her heart before knocking softly on the door. He came to the door, dressed in only his breeches and shirt, and motioned her into the room.

"You are prompt." He looked critically at the girl, causing her to blush from his scrutiny. "Do you know what I want from you?" His eyes were boring into her, her confidence faltered as she stammered, "Yes, milord." He smiled, a slow smile that did not reach his eyes. Coming over to her he reached out and stroked her cheek along her jaw line and downward to her bodice. "And what is that?" he whispered. Lucy swallowed and said hoarsely, "Whatever you wish, milord."

He nodded and went over to the table and picked up a silk scarf. "Do you like to play games, Lucy?" She nodded, not sure of herself anymore. He prowled the room, his bare feet silent on the thick carpet. He gathered several items together…the scarf, a piece of silken cord, a small vial of oil, a leather strap. Arranging them on a small table he walked over and poured himself a glass of brandy.

He sat down in a large upholstered chair and said softly, "I want you to undress for me." Lucy nodded and began to unbutton her gown, fumbling on the small eyelets, her eyes darting over to the table where the items lay. A small smile played on his face as he watched her. The last button loosened she shimmied out of the gown allowing it to drop to the ground, Her fingers continued to fumble, first with the laces of her corset, then the shift beneath. All the while he watched her, silently sipping his drink, his eyes ravishing her from afar. She let the shift slip off and stood in the firelight from the hearth, her milky white skin prickling with fear and excitement.

"Let down your hair," he whispered next. She removed the pins and her hair cascaded down, covering her nakedness with its coppery sheen. He said nothing, just sat there and watched her until she was ready to scream. And still he did nothing. Lucy swallowed and glanced once again at the items he had placed on the table. He seemed to be enjoying her discomfort. Finally he stirred, placing the empty glass aside he beckoned her with one finger.

She crept over to where he sat sprawled in his chair. "Kneel," he said softly. Swallowing again she did as directed, knowing what was to come next. She went to reach for him, and he slapped her hand away. Confused she looked up to see only contempt in his face. He stood over her and said slowly, "No Lucy. That is not what I need from you. Any whore off the street would suffice for that. No, what I need is information. And you are going to give it to me."

She swallowed again, he could see the fear in her eyes…finally. He walked over and picked up the cord from the table and turned to her. "I know a wonderful game we can play. You did say you like to play games, didn't you Lucy?"


	6. On the Fifth Day of Christmas

Author: mamazano

Title: THE HUNTING OF THE SPARROW

Rating: R (adult themes, sexual situations, implied slash)

Pairings: None deliberately

Disclaimer: Disney owns POTC, the OC's are mine

Summary: Set in an AU out of my own eggnog induced fog. Lord Cutler Beckett has decided to celebrate Boxing Day in his own fashion…substituting the traditional Hunting of the Wren with another bird…Captain Jack Sparrow.

-----

**The Hunting of the Sparrow**

**Chapter 6**

**Bird in the Hand**

_STRAWBOYS are we, we'll mind the wren,_

_STRAWBOYS are we, we'll mind the wren,_

_We've come here from everywhere,_

_From Wicklow, Dublin and Kildare,_

_To save the wren from trap and snare,_

_We'll mind the wren,_

_We'll mind the wren._

_Traditional_

Beachfront – December 29th – Dawn

The fire was long cold, with barely a whiff of smoke remaining in the fog shrouded faint light of dawn. Jack Sparrow woke slowly, senses dulled by rum and sleep it took him several minutes to register the soft, warm bundle pressed against his chest. Eyes suddenly wide open he glanced down in apprehension at the slumbering girl, her face peaceful in repose and if possible even more beautiful than when awake. Long dark lashes against rosy cheeks, her mouth a delectable plum, moist and pink… her lips parted slightly in sleep, tempting…tempting him to taste their sweet mysteries. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts he tried to extract his arm from under the sleeping girl. _How did she…what did he…_his mind was trying to recall what had happened the night before. She stirred and moaned, a soft sensuous sound that caused his blood to race and his goods to rise. Not good! He scrambled to remove himself from temptation before he became unaccountable for his actions. As he finally freed his arm she opened her eyes and smiled sleepily.

"Don't go," she said softly. Jack scrambled to his feet and strode a few yards down the beach, taking several deep breaths he stood with his back to her and said as calmly as he could muster under the circumstances, "We ought to move quickly, take advantage of the mist." The girl had other ideas though of what she should take advantage of and came up silently behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Jack cleared his throat, wondering if there was any truth in her tale of woe from the night before. Damn blasted woman-child! He'd known some whores in Tortuga with more subtleness. Perhaps he ought to just…

He cleared his throat again and slowly turned around, the girl still clinging to him like a limpet. Her eyes were wide tidal pools of desire, her mouth a tempting morsel, her body pressed against his as she wrapped her arms around his neck and dragged him downward onto the sand. Where was the shy skittish damsel he had rescued from despair? In her place he found himself being devoured by an accomplished temptress whose nimble fingers, which had already freed him from his belts, were now skillfully unbuttoning his breeches while rolling him onto his back. Just as she freed his most willing member from imprisonment she suddenly stood up and Jack heard a tell tale click. Opening one eye he saw her, standing over him with a grim look on her face, a pistol aimed at his head.

He opened the other eye, and hitched himself up on his elbows. "Don't move or I'll shoot you." Her voice didn't quaver. Jack sighed and glanced down at his still alert partner and said, "Knew it was too good to be true. As you were gent." He then shrugged and said with a grin, one eye half closed as he peered up at her, "Not so good at following directions, has a mind of 'is own, that one." Her eyes flitted briefly towards Jack's uncooperative member but didn't say anything. Jack just lounged, pants half down and said simply, "Now that you've got me attention, what are you planning on doing next?" She frowned and said, "I have an appointment to meet this evening. I can not afford to be detained."

Jack spread his hands open and said, "And I was detaining you? By all means, don't let me stop you. Off you go then." She faltered a bit but then found her resolve. "Undress." She waved the pistol at Jack. He smiled slowly and sat up, pulling his shirt off he then shimmied out of his breeches. "Toss them here," she directed and he casually threw his clothes towards her, a small smile playing on his face as he spread his arms wide. "All yours, luv!" Molly swallowed her discomfort and said slowly, "I am going to leave and you will not follow." Jack shrugged. "Not really up for a swim this early. Best watch the currents as you go, they can be tricky around the point." She gathered up his clothes and shoved them into the small boat before pushing off into deeper water. Jack stayed where he was, lounging casually in the sand. As she picked up the oars to row he smiled and waved a small salute her way. Had to admire one willing to do whatever necessary.

----

Fort Charles – December 29th – Dawn

The prisoners in the cells stirred restlessly as the sound of footsteps rattled in the corridor. A dawn appointment with the gallows awaited them, after a sleepless night of torment. There were five due to be hung that day, three pirates…sole survivors from a ship that had floundered on the reef during a recent storm. The other two were Irish, indentured servants from one of the estates, they had been found guilty of crimes against the Crown. A third Irishman sat huddled and dejected in a far cell. His fate had not been determined yet, leaving him to agonize while the others were shackled and led out into the morning light.

There were few spectators. No one notorious enough to get the townsfolk out of bed, the courtyard was quiet except for the steady beat of the drums. The soldiers ringed the area, their faces expressionless, having long ago become immune to the casualness of death in the colonies. Since Lord Beckett had arrived the hangman had been steadily employed, as order was once again restored to this unruly outpost of the Empire.

Commodore Norrington watched from his place of privilege, impassive…his face a mask of indifference. He had sworn to uphold the laws, this was the life he had chosen, had returned to. It was not his decision who swung…his responsibility was to see that justice was swiftly carried out. His mind elsewhere, he was slow to recognize the skirmish taking place on the gallows. Alarmed he signaled his men to advance, drawing his pistol as he joined them. The object of the disturbance was a young lad of not but twenty, one of the Irish insurgents that had been arrested that week. He stood defiantly on the platform, his voice ringing out as he proclaimed in a loud voice, "You may kill me, my fellow countrymen, but upon the blood of a thousand Englishmen we will rise again!" The boy was then subdued and duly executed, his body left to sway in the golden light of morning for several hours before being cut down and hauled away.

----

Beckett House – December 29th – Midday

Lucy drew in her breath sharply, pausing in her task as the sharp stinging brought tears to her eyes. She waited a moment, fearful to linger longer at the chore at hand…

She glanced around at the bedchamber, nausea boiling upward as she recalled the previous night. Her cheeks flamed red as she recalled the sordid details of her evening with his Lordship. Her body bore the painful reminder of the "games" he had chosen to play…games designed to extract the information he was after. A silent tear trickled down her face as she quickly straightened the bedcovers and removed the soiled linens. A shudder went through her as she remembered his parting words…

"Until tomorrow night, my pet."

----

Port Royal Beachfront – December 29th – Midday

Jack Sparrow had a bit of a dilemma before him. Having waited long enough for the girl to make her way across the channel he had then set out to do the same, swimming in strong powerful strokes as he made his way towards the rocky promenade in the distance. Now having reached his destination he had only the small problem of being without clothes to contend with. He was still chuckling at the brilliance of the girl's actions…and amazed at the depth the mere child possessed. He had grossly underestimated her. Which reminded him of another slip of a girl who had bested him in the past. Clouded memories lingered as he recalled the ultimate betrayal…the kiss before condemnation to the depths.

Well, regrets and remorse weren't something he intended to tarry on, what was more pressing was that he find a bit of cover for his more vulnerable parts. He wrapped the sodden blanket around his waist, at least she'd seen fit to leave that…that and his boots and hat. He chuckled again…not quite the image his legend had been built on. Squaring his shoulders he pulled on his boots, placed his hat on his head and clutching the blanket around himself trudged off down the beach in search of cover.

----

Lord Beckett's Office – December 29th – Midday

Beckett looked up from the parchment in his hand as the door opened to admit the Commodore. He gestured with his hand towards the chair opposite his desk and went back to reading the document. Norrington waited patiently, lack of consideration of others being one of Lord Beckett's more enduring traits. Finally his lordship finished and folded the item before tossing it carelessly towards the commodore. "Read it," he said curtly as he rose and walked over to a side table and poured each of them a glass of brandy. Norrington opened the document and scanned it quickly…it was an official public statement issued by the Governor. It stated:

_It hath been taken notice that several of the Irish nation, freemen_

_and women, who have no certain place of residence, and as vagabonds_

_refusing to labour, or to put themselves into any service, but_

_contriving in a dissolute, leud, and slothful kind of life, put themselves_

_to evil practices, as pilfering, thefts, robberies, and other_

_felonous acts for their subsistency, are endeavouring by their example_

_and persuasion to draw servants unto them of the said nation to the_

_same kind of idle, wicked course; and information having been given_

_that divers of them have of late uttered threatening words and_

_menacing language to several of the inhabitants of this place, and_

_demeaned themselves in a very preemptory and insolent way of_

_carriage and behaviour; and some of them have endeavoured to_

_secure themselves with arms, and other are now forth in rebellion and_

_refuse to come in, by which it appears that could they be in a_

_condition of power, or had opportunity, they would soon put some_

_wicked and malicious design into execution._

The Governor suggested a four-point program of control. First, Irish servants found off their place of residence without a pass, ticket, or testimonial signed by their master or mistress were to be arrested and conveyed by any English person to the nearest constable, who was empowered to whip and return them to their residence. Second, Irish freemen or women found about the island who could not give a good account of themselves were to be arrested by constables and, if they be of no fixed abode, put to labor for one whole year on some plantation. Third, it was now a punishable offense for anyone to sell any kind of arms or ammunition whatsoever to any of the said nation. Fourth, any Irish person found in possession of arms or ammunition, either on their persons or in their houses, would be whipped and jailed at the governor's pleasure.

Norrington folded the document and tapped it thoughtfully on his knee. "Has this policy been implemented?" Beckett sipped his drink and smiled slowly. "It will be, after tomorrow night. Have you seen to the arrangements?" Norrington took a swallow of brandy and nodded. "All is in place. If the information you obtained is correct, we should be able to detain the lot of them." Beckett smiled slowly…something about the look on his face made James Norrington shudder. "Oh I am certain the information is accurate. I was able to verify it…quite satisfactorily last evening." He sipped his drink and added softly, "I plan on furthering my inquiries tonight. There is a matter or two I would like clarification on…and I am quite sure I will obtain my answer. Quite sure."

Norrington shuddered again and felt a twinge of pity for the poor soul that would provide that information.


	7. On the Sixth Day of Christmas

Author: mamazano

Title: THE HUNTING OF THE SPARROW

Rating: R (adult themes, sexual situations, implied slash)

Pairings: None deliberately

Disclaimer: Disney owns POTC, the OC's are mine

Summary: Set in an AU out of my own eggnog induced fog. Lord Cutler Beckett has decided to celebrate Boxing Day in his own fashion…substituting the traditional Hunting of the Wren with another bird…Captain Jack Sparrow.

-----

**The Hunting of the Sparrow**

**Chapter 7**

**Tethered Flight**

_STRAWBOYS are we, we'll mind the wren,_

_STRAWBOYS are we, we'll mind the wren,_

_On Stephens day we'll get our way,_

_We'll keep the wrenboys from their prey,_

_And bate them till they run away,_

_We'll mind the wren,_

_We'll mind the wren. _

_Traditional_

----

Port Royal – December 30th – Predawn

He summoned her.

She ran.

Lucy O'Sullivan was a survivor. She crouched in the shelter of the trees, shivering from fear and the chill of the night's air, bidding her heart to stop pounding. It hadn't taken her long to realize that her employer had further plans for her…plans she could not bear to even contemplate. She shuddered at the thought of what might have awaited her that evening, behind that heavy door to his chambers, the better to muffle the screams that came from within. She had finished her chores silently, willing herself to act normal until she could escape to the privacy of her small room. There she had hastily packed her few possessions…her brush, a worn missal, her mother's rosary. Lucy had never been much for prayer but now, in the dark chill of predawn she found a degree of solace as she fingered the beads in her pocket.

She had to warn them. Somehow. She swallowed her fears, squared her shoulders and set out down the rough track through the woods. She said another silent prayer it would not be too late.

----

Jack Sparrow tugged on the shirt…too tight in the chest, too short in the sleeve. Well, the poor blighter he'd taken it from hadn't been that large a man. Easily overcome as he slept off the night's libations, the poor drunken sot had barely registered being relieved of his clothing. They would have to do though, until Jack could find where the girl had beached the boat. Figuring she'd want to travel unencumbered he had hoped to find his belongs left behind.

He'd searched that day and half the bloody night…no boat, no girl. Finally resigned to the fact she'd disappeared Jack decided to see if the other damsel in distress might be able to shed some light on the matter. Skirting the more populated areas of the town he headed up the hill towards Beckett House.

----

Lord Beckett took the nearest item at hand, a delicate porcelain figure and smashed it again the hearth with a frustrated moan. The girl had not come…was nowhere to be found. Just like her predecessor. A throbbing in his temples matched the throbbing in his groin…

There would be hell to pay.

----

Molly glanced around cautiously before tapping three times at the weathered wood planks of the tavern's rear door. An answering tap came from within, which she followed with one of her own. The door was opened a crack and a pale blue eye scrutinized her before opening the door further so she could slip inside.

"Is he here?" she asked the pale faced girl who'd answered the door. She nodded and gestured with her head towards the stairs in the corner. "He's expectin' ye." Molly nodded back and hurried to the stairs, her heart beating wildly as she went.

----

Port Royal – December 30th – Dawn

The hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream as strong arms dragged her into the heavy overgrowth lining the path. Panic welled up in her breast as she tried to fight back, kicking and squirming with every ounce of her strength. The voice rasped softly in her right ear

"Be still! They'll bloody well hear you if you keep it up."

She froze, as she heard the telltale jingle of harness and creak of leather further up the path. Her assailant pulled her further up the slope into the tangled cover of vines and bushes, indicating to her to be quiet. The garrison passed below them, a mounted officer and squad of soldiers on foot. Barely daring to breath, Lucy stood pressed against her unknown ally. She found herself praying again, for the third time that morning.

"They've gone," the same gravely voice said as he removed his hand from her mouth and released his hold on her. She suddenly realized she was shaking all over, her legs wouldn't support her weight as she teetered precariously. The man went to steady her eliciting a sharp hiss as his hand grasped her shoulder. He furrowed his brow in concern, and taking her arm set her down gently on a fallen tree stump.

She glanced up through lowered lashes at her rescuer. An odd looking fellow with snarled hair and braids full of beads and trinkets. Dark lined eyes, more fripperies than a lady he had. Clothes were odd too. He grinned, a mouthful of gold glittered in the sunlight shafting down through the trees. "Didn't mean to give you a start, darling. Thought you might not want to be seen." He saw her puzzled look and added gently, "You're obviously running from something."

----

Fort Charles – December 30th – Midday

Lord Beckett decided another round of questioning might be in order for the prisoner and had Charles brought to the small, gloomy room off the main corridor. Weak from lack of food and sleep, not to mention his previous interrogations, the poor boy had to be half carried to the chair in the center of the room. Hands and feet shackled he sat with head hung low, resigned to his fate.

Beckett stood in front of him, hands clasped behind his back and rocked slightly on his heels as he contemplated what to do with his prisoner. It had been much more stimulating when there was still fight left in the boy. Broken and pathetic, he was now hardly worth the effort. Yet, frustration still gnawed at Beckett, demanding a release in some manner. Deciding this would have to do he summoned Mercer to join him. If all went according to plan the boy would greet the New Year at the end of a noose along with his other countrymen. Why not let Mercer have a bit of sport in the meantime.

----

Molly snuggled closer to him, unwilling to let go in case he disappear again. She gazed up at his profile, calm in repose as he slept. Earlier she had welcomed the fire in his eyes, and his loins as they had tumbled wordlessly together in a frenzied renewal of acquaintance and desire. Explanations would come later, for now she was content to lie once again in his arms. Her pirate. Her Patrick.

----

James Norrington was as stoic as the next person. Trained to withstand the rigors and horrors of battle, nonetheless his stomach turned as he escorted the boy back to his cell. This went beyond anything he'd experienced in his military career. Bordering on barbaric, sadistic for certain. The Commodore decided it was time to have a word with the Governor about the cruelty of Lord Beckett's reign. In the meantime he swore the poor boy would not be subjected to any more torture. A plan was forming in the back of his mind. But first he needed to tend to his prisoner.

----

"So you're Lucy." Jack studied the girl sitting next to him with interest. Not as comely as Miss Molly but equally determined it seemed…and tenacious. After her initial shock at being seized in the woods she had latched on to him like a barnacle.

She nodded, eagerly shoveling the meager meal he'd scrounged up into her mouth, speaking between bites her words muffled by food. Not shy this one, she managed in two minutes flat to tell Jack her entire life story. It was only when he asked about her position at Beckett House that she clammed up. A glimpse of fear in her eyes and the way she gingerly moved told Jack enough.

"Wouldn't happen to know where your friend might be hiding?" She looked up at him and started to speak then turned her head. "No, no idea. Why?" He shrugged. "Just a simple matter of wanting to get me effects back. And me clothes."

She looked at again, eyes wide then broke into a grin. "She stole your clothes?"

"Left me naked as the day I were born, she did."

Lucy broke into peals of laughter, much to Jack's chagrin. "Molly? Little timid Molly TOOK your clothes?" Lucy wiped her eyes on her sleeve and added, still grinning widely, "I wish I could have seen that!" Then, realizing what she said as Jack's eyes widen in amusement, she blushed and looked away stammering, "I mean, what I meant…" He grinned and said with a devilish glint in his eye, "Aye, an eyeful you've have gotten too." Lucy reddened further and made to rise, only to cry out from pain.

Jack helped her to her feet with a worried look in his eyes. "Care to tell me about it?" he inquired gently. She shook her head and blushed even more. "No, I'm fine. It's nothing." Jack shook his head and said in exasperation, "Nothing you say. Fine you say. First your friend, now you. Want saving but won't say from what. Enough to bloody drive one daft!"

He peered down the alleyway in which they were sitting and said with finality, "You can stay here and be "fine" if you want. I've done me job. I have a ship to catch." With that he strode off, shaking his head and muttering that Gibbs HAD been right, this was all fool's folly. Blasted women.

----

Warehouse, Port Royal – December 30th – Dusk

They started arriving a little before dusk. One by one they slipped into the building from the waterfront, making sure they were not observed before knocking on the small door in the rear alley. Molly joined the assembly, Patrick McKee at her side as they gave the signal and were granted admission. Inside the cavernous warehouse several lanterns were lit, the figures gathered within casting towering shadows against the walls.

Their leader, a short stocky Irishman from County Cork spoke to the gathering passionately, calling on them to rise up against the oppression of the predominantly British land owners and rulers of the island. Stepping up on a wooden crate, Daniel McNamara cried out, "The English government, in order to justify their policy of transportation, refers to us Irish as being nothing but rogues, vagabonds, rebels, neutrals, felons. The truth be that they are taking not just military prisoners but teachers, priests, maidens, women and children. They call us servants, bondsman, indentured servants…but in reality we are naught but slaves… and treated as slaves. First they confiscated our land, drove us from our ancestral homes to forage for roots like animals. Afterwards we were kidnapped, rounded up and driven like cattle to waiting ships and transported to English colonies here and in America, never to see our country again."

He peered around at the faces and said, "No more shall we sit back and endure this unfair practice of political and ethnic genocide. I say we take back our lives, and with them as many of their filthy English lives we can."

A cheer went up from the crowd, as they rallied around the call, "Upon this shore, slave no more."

----

Alley – Port Royal – December 30th – Night

Lucy hunched down in the shadows outside the warehouse, her heart beating loudly in her ears. She had to warn them, but how? They would know it were her that gave away their meeting place, and brand her a traitor, a turncoat. How could she ever convince them that the words had been wrenched out her, tortured from her one painful word at a time? She bent her head and wept, fear and fatigue taking their toll along with the lingering pain of her wounds. What was wounded most though was her pride…pride in being independent and strong, in being Irish.

Jack Sparrow watched from another shadow, having trailed the girl through the town. Having determined that the mysterious Molly's appointment had something to do with her friend's frantic flight he settled back on his heels and patiently waited to see what would materialize. A familiar sound alerted him to duck deeper into the shadows…that of boots, marching in unison. Peering down the alleyway he could see the faint outline of dozens of red coated soldiers as they surrounded the building opposite, waiting for their command.

Jack glanced briefly over at the girl, still hovering undecidedly outside the warehouse door. He wanted to warn her, but did not wish to draw attention to himself, being outnumbered and unarmed it didn't seem the most prudent thing to do. But…thinking of what the poor girl must have endured at Beckett's hand, he decided he could not just stand by and see her taken again. Cursing his honest streak and chivalry in general he broke his cover, creeping silently towards where the girl was crouched in frozen indecision. Somehow he had a feeling he was going to regret his actions in the morning. If he managed to live that long.


	8. New Year's Eve

Author: mamazano

Title: THE HUNTING OF THE SPARROW

Rating: R (adult themes, sexual situations, implied slash, character death, violence)

Pairings: None deliberately

Disclaimer: Disney owns POTC, the OC's are mine

Summary: Set in an AU out of my own eggnog induced fog. Lord Cutler Beckett has decided to celebrate Boxing Day in his own fashion…substituting the traditional Hunting of the Wren with another bird…Captain Jack Sparrow.

-----

**The Hunting of the Sparrow**

**Chapter 8**

**Caged Flight**

_Joy, health, love and peace; we're here in this place; _

_By your leave here we sing concerning our King._

_Our King is well drest in silks of the best _

_And the ribbons so rare, no King can compare. _

_We were four foot-men in taking this wren._

_We were four at watch and were nigh of a match_

_Now Christmas is past, Twelfth Day is the last._

_To the old year adieu, great joy to the new._

_Traditional_

----

_Fort Charles – New Year's Eve – Dawn_

The prisoners were locked four to a cell, except for one special guest of honor. He was given his own cell, at the end of the corridor. The guards came for him at dawn, ignoring the shouts and curses from the others and led him shackled out across the courtyard to Lord Beckett's office overlooking the docks, already teaming with activity in the early morning light. Jack Sparrow had not slept much the night before, listening silently to the others as they conversed quietly among themselves. Five of them had escaped, including the girl Lucy. Unfortunately her friend Molly had not been as fortunate and was apprehended along with the others. She alone had not been brought to the jail but had been taken to Lord Beckett's estate instead. A cold feeling of dread was knotted in the pit of Jack's stomach as he contemplated what might have awaited the unfortunate young woman.

His worse fears were confirmed when Beckett himself showed up in jovial spirits… a sure sign he'd been making someone's life a misery. He strode cheerfully into the room and came over to where Jack was standing, hands and feet in irons, a smile of satisfaction on his face.

"Ah, Jack. I'd heard you'd been captured again. How touching of you to bring back the young maid as well. Perhaps she has finally learned the folly of trusting a pirate for her welfare."

Jack spread his hands and said glibly, "T'wasn't me that brought her. I was just an almost innocent bystander." He paused and added cheerfully, "And just how is she this fine morning?" Beckett smiled and came over, leaning close so only Jack could hear. "She's safely locked away, contemplating her transgressions."

Beckett strolled over to the veranda and gazed out at the docks. "The New Year is upon us. How better to celebrate than to give the townsfolk a bit of entertainment. They will certainly enjoy watching you hang almost as much as I will." Jack frowned at this bit of news and said in a conversational tone of voice, "But, with me gone, how will you ever find out the location of the others?"

Beckett looked over his shoulder at Jack and said in a bored tone, "Oh I have no worries we will flush them out eventually. In the meantime we have their compatriots to make examples of." Jack shook his head and shuffled over to stand next to Beckett, chains clanking as he wove his hands around. "You make a martyr of any one of them and you'll live to regret it. If you set on eliminating the threat you need to go to the source, their leader."

Beckett frowned as one of Jack's hand gestures came precariously close to his head. "I'm curious, Jack," he said walking over to the side table and pouring himself a glass of brandy. Jack looked at the glass with faint longing, a tongue tip appeared as he watched Beckett sip the amber liquid. "Why would you suddenly want to cooperate with me?" Jack spread his hands and said with a gleam of malice in his eye. "Bloody girl made a fool of me. Not to mention her bloody boyfriend." He gave another longing look at the brandy and shrugged. "Besides, I see no profit being on the losing side."

Beckett smiled then, a calculated smile as he tapped his finger on the rim of his glass. "And you know where the others are meeting?" Jack shrugged again. "Not exactly. BUT..I do know a gent who knows a gent who will know. Of course with me hanging off the gallows that gent will just flee these waters and you'll spend the rest of your days looking over your shoulder wondering when that gent this gent knows will return." He paused and grinned his golden best. "Savvy?"

Beckett went over and sat behind his desk, idly picking up the arrest warrant he'd signed for Jack just one week previously. Tapping it on the desktop he thought for a moment and then leaned back in his chair. "And how does letting a notorious pirate such as yourself go free profit me? I have no doubt that once you gain your freedom you will flee these waters just like that gent you mentioned."

"Not if you have something I want in return." Beckett studied Jack, who seemed to suddenly be dead serious. "And what would that be?" Jack came over and leaned on the desk, his face level with Beckett's. "The girl."

----

_Beckett House – December 31__st__ – Morning_

Molly Crichton lay on the floor where he'd left her lying naked, bound hand and foot. The physical pain was minor in comparison to the anguish and pain she was going through wondering if Patrick had been one of those arrested the previous evening. In the ensuing melee after the soldiers had stormed the meeting she had lost sight of him, shrieking his name wildly as she was hauled off to the waiting wagons. Her fears were only compounded when she was not placed in the wagons with the other prisoners but clapped in irons and transported directly to Beckett House slung over the saddle of an officer's horse.

Lord Beckett had been more than pleased to see her again and had wasted no time making sure she knew exactly how pleased he was. Now, in the dreary light of early morn she groaned as the raw welts across her back began to stiffen. Twenty-one lashes he had given her, one for each of her years alive and an additional one for the new year about to dawn. He had left before light, promising more discipline when he returned. She retched as she remember how aroused he'd become, standing over her broken and bleeding body, anointing it with his seed.

She closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle.

----

_Black Pearl – December 31__st__ – Morning_

Gibbs frowned as he scanned the shoreline one more time, hoping to see some sign of Jack. It had been two days now and his captain's orders had been specific. But Joshamee Gibbs was not worrying about specifics at the moment, now was he? He discerned a movement near the tree line, and trained the glass on it, his curiosity turning to amazement at the sight of a red haired maiden frantically waving her arms over her head. She appeared to be alone, but then it could be a ruse. Her accomplices could be lurking in the trees waiting to waylay them and commandeer the _Pearl_. Wouldn't do to have the _Pearl_ stolen out from under his nose due to a pretty girl, now would it?

Gibbs kept his glass on the girl and ordered two men to go aloft with muskets at the ready. The rest of the crew lined the rail, weapons at hand but not drawn, waiting for the signal. The girl was jumping up and down now, and gesturing wildly. Finally, to everyone's surprise she hitched up her skirts and waded out into the water of the lagoon and begun swimming out to where the _Pearl_ was anchored. Gibbs' mouth dropped open as he watched the determined young woman as she continued to make her way across the bay. Finally he stirred, shook his head and gave orders to make ready to be boarded. "Keep yer weapons handy gents, "he told the crew. "Not sure whether she's a threat or just daft."

----

_Fort Charles – December 31__st__ – Midday_

The boy died just before noon. The guard serving the prisoners their morning allotment of bread and water noted the stillness of the huddled figure in the corner but thought nothing of it…he'd been huddled like that ever since his last bout of questioning by Lord Beckett. But when the same guard returned later to check on the cells he'd noted an awkwardness about how the lad was laying and had unlocked the cell to investigate further. A sharp kick with his boot elicited no response. He turned the body over, averting his eyes to the sight of the boys damaged face and quickly turned to go alert his superior officer. But before leaving the cell the man paused to cover the staring eyes with a rough blanket and say a silent prayer for the poor lad's soul.

----

_Beckett House – December 31__st__ – Midday_

"Mary, Mother of God!" The plump housekeep put her hand to her mouth and hurried over to the prostrate girl lying in the middle of the rug. "Sweet Jesus, my dear! What _has_ he done to ye?" Molly looked up at the kindly face hovering over her and tried to speak, her voice cracked and hoarse, her throat raw from her screams the night before. The older woman knelt down and tried to loosen the cords around Molly's wrists but her struggles had pulled the knots too tight. "I'll just go get a knife from the kitchen," she said reassuredly, patting the young girl's cheek and covering her with a quilt off the bed. "Man ought to be whipped himself, treating a young girl such," she muttered as she hurried down the corridor. Turning the corner she stopped short with a slight cry as she came face to face with that horrid clerk of his lordship. A hand to her breast she said in a hurried voice, "His Lordship is down at his office. May I help you with anything?" Mercer smiled slowly and pulled out his silver knife and began to idly clean his fingernails. "His Lordship asked me to check on a certain piece of property of his. Make sure it was still secure…" He came closer to the frightened housekeeper and added softly, "Now we wouldn't want his Lordship to come home and find his property tampered with in any way, would we?"

----

_Black Pearl – December 31__st__ – Midday_

The girl was sitting on a cask, blanket around her shoulders as she told her tale to the men.

"You've got to do something! The others fled, they'll be no one else to save them!" She was shivering, from fear or chill Gibbs was not sure. A bit like a drowned rat she looked but there was a fire in her eyes, and determination in her blood. She tried again.

"He's your _Captain_! Don't you want to save him?" The others exchanged looks with Marty piping up first. "Whoever falls behind is left behind." The others nodded, and Gibbs added, "Aye, that's what the Code says. But whenever have we kept to the Code, gents? The lass is right, we can't let that bloody bastard Beckett be the end of Captain Jack Sparrow!"

There was some grumbling, they'd already missed the Christmas celebrations in Tortuga, now it was looking like they'd be missing the New Year's festivities as well. But Gibbs did have a point, and there wasn't a man on board that wanted to see Jack's demise come at the hand of Lord Cutler Beckett.

Lucy smiled as the men nodded and finally agreed to help. She owed Jack Sparrow at least this much, perhaps even her life. If it weren't for him pushing her behind them crates she would have ended up rounded up just like the others. A true gent he was, even if he were a pirate. And a handsome one, despite the fripperies. She sat out of the way on a crate drying her hair in the sun as the men weighed anchor and made ready to sail. A slight blush crept over her face as she remembered his tale of being left naked on the beach. She hadn't been exactly lying when she'd said she wished she could have seen it…

----

_Fort Charles – December 31__st__ – Evening_

James Norrington sat at his desk and duly noted the time of death of the prisoner, Charles Kavanagh. When he came to the column for cause of death he frowned, quill poised over the ledger. Finally he dipped the end into the inkwell and wrote carefully, From Injuries Sustained during Arrest. Carefully blotting the words he felt an emptiness that came from deep within.

When had it happened…this shift in his moral center from blind obedience, to questioning his orders? He could no longer hide behind his wall of performance of duty being the foremost priority. Recently, those duties had become distasteful, disturbing, depraved in spirit. He was no stranger to brutality but it seemed that lately it had turned to something beyond that…something more base, more primal. He shuddered as he thought of the young girl he'd taken back to Beckett House the night before. She did not deserve what was surely in store for her. Any more than her poor lover did, wrapped in his canvas shroud awaiting the coffin cart.

----

_Beckett House – December 31__st__ – Evening_

Lord Beckett dismounted from his horse and gave the white stallion a slap on the rump as his groom came and took the reins. A fine horse and a joy to ride, powerful and headstrong it took a strong hand and steady whip. But that was how Lord Beckett liked his mounts. He entered the house, idly slapping his riding crop against his gloved hand. He felt the stirring in his loins as he contemplated his other headstrong mount waiting in his chambers. Eyeing the crop he smiled slowly. Yes, a firm hand and a steady whip. It was time to break the news of poor Charles Kavanagh's demise to his dearly betrothed. Beckett hummed a little tune to himself as he mounted the stairs, hand gliding gently on the polished banister.

-----

_Fort Charles Jail – December 31__st__ – Evening_

Jack Sparrow leaned back against the wall of his cell and tipped his hat over his eyes. He felt confident, in spite of Beckett not agreeing to his terms. He recalled his exact words with a grin, the light from the torches in the corridor lending an eerie light to the cell.

"No, you see Jack, I have plans for the young woman. Plans I intend to see to completion. Perhaps you might like to enhance your offer."

Jack settled down to sleep. By his reckoning his offer would be accepted without enhancement come sunrise.

----


	9. New Year's Day

Title: THE HUNTING OF THE SPARROW

Rating: R (adult themes, sexual situations, implied slash, character death, violence)  
Pairings: None deliberately

Disclaimer: Disney owns POTC, the OC's are mine

Summary: Set in an AU out of my own eggnog induced fog. Lord Cutler Beckett has decided to celebrate Boxing Day in his own fashion…substituting the traditional Hunting of the Wren with another bird…Captain Jack Sparrow.

--

**The Hunting of the Sparrow**

Chapter 9

**Swift of Wing**

_Wilt thou come to the wood? said Dibin to Dobin;  
Wilt thou come to the wood ? said Richard to Robin;  
Wilt thou come to the wood ? said John to the three;  
Wilt thou come to the wood ? said all of them.  
What shall we do there? Hunt the little Wren.  
What shall we do with him? Sell him for a shilling.  
What shall we do with a shilling? Spend it on beer.  
What if we became drunk? . . .What if we died ? . . .  
Where should we be buried? In the dunghill pit._

_Traditional_

--

Port Royal – New Year's Day – Midnight

The clock in the church tower solemnly rang in the New Year to the accompaniment of the cheers from the throngs spilling out into the streets from the many taverns along the waterfront. The crowd was boisterous and more than a little drunk, an unruly assortment of tradesmen, fishermen and sailors along with the usual bevy of buxom wenches ready to dispense pleasure in return for a bit of shine. The New Year was officially welcomed with much wanton kissing and fondling along with copious amounts of rum and ale. There were toasts being made to all and sundry people, including His Majesty the King. This last one cause a bit of a skirmish between loyalists to the Crown and those persons from other lands. At the peak of the melee a man jumped atop a crate and shouted that the filthy British had imprisoned some of his fellow countrymen that evening on charges of illegal assembly. There were many sympathizers among the shoving and shouting crowd and soon the cry went out calling for action to free the prisoners. Torches were lit, pistols were shoved into belts and bottles were raised in defiance as a riotous crowd turned their feet towards Fort Charles with drunken determination.

--

Fort Charles Jail – New Year's Day – Midnight

At first Jack thought it was thunder rumbling in the distance. By the third boom he knew it was something else. The fourth boom was followed by a shuddering in the jail walls and a volley of cries from outside in the fort.

Jack sprang to his feet and peered through the bars out at the harbor. "He's here," he said with satisfaction.

"Who's here?" one of the prisoners in the adjoining cell asked as another boom caused the walls to shake and dust to fly.

"Greaves!" Jack's eyes shined with excitement.

The fort took another hit, dust flying as the shouts outside became closer and louder. The uproar was so great no one heard the incoming cannon ball until it blasted a hole in the outer wall, raining fiery debris and broken bricks down on the unsuspecting. Jack had been watching at the window and strategically ducked, the others were moaning in pain as they scrambled to their feet and scurried out the large hole like rats from a sinking ship.

--

Beckett House – New Year's Day - Midnight

Molly was on her knees, praying and rocking. "_Mea culpa_," she whispered, "_Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa_." She moaned in agony at her sin, for it was through her fault, her most grievous fault that poor Charles had died that day.

He had loved her. Worshipped her, even. Believing her to be pure and untainted, like the Blessed Mother, his beautiful virgin. She hadn't the heart to tell him of her past love, her Patrick. She had been young, she had been naïve. He had sailed away. She justified her sin of omission to Charles by letting him believe a lie. And when he'd told her, without knowing the significance of his words, that a band of pirates had been captured and hung, she'd finally given up her hopes of ever seeing Patrick again.

Lucy had fancied the boy, but he'd only had eyes for Molly. And now he was dead. Charles had died a torturous death due to his desire to help her be free of the cruel and heartless tyrant that now sat opposite her, sipping his infernal brandy and smiling in satisfaction at her brokenness.

And Patrick? Could she hope for another miracle? She'd learned of his survival also by chance, an overheard conversation on the pirate ship. She had tricked its Captain to bring her back so she could once more be with her lover. And now her lover was gone, Charles was dead and Captain Sparrow due to hang. "_Mea culpa_," she whispered again.

--

Fort Charles – New Year's Day – Predawn

The pirate's that invaded the fort seemed to only have that as their intent leaving the town and its population unharmed. The unruly crowd that had traveled to the fort with malice aforethought were caught unawares of the attack but soon fled, their alcohol induced bravado wavering in the face of a band of cutthroat pirates on the loose. The Irish insurgents were able to escape; ironically, the only prisoner left in his cell was the lone pirate, Jack Sparrow. He had watched as the others had slipped out of the fort and scrambled down the rocks to freedom, before returning to his silent vigil at the window. He gave it an hour, two tops before he'd be summoned. The pirate Red Legs Greaves had unwittingly just enhanced Jack's offer.

--

Beckett House – New Year's Day – Dawn

James Norrington stood outside the door and took a deep breath. The news he had to convey would be not be welcome. Bracing himself for the worse he squared his shoulders and raised his hand to knock. At least he had one bit of good news, Jack Sparrow had not escaped with the others. The butler took his hat and cloak and told him that his Lordship would be down shortly, after he finished attending to another matter at hand.

Norrington did not have long to wait. Lord Beckett entered the room, impeccably dressed despite the earliness of the hour. A small smile hovered on his face as he rang for tea.

"I dare say it must be important for you to come personally with your report," Beckett said finally, after several minutes of silence.

Norrington cleared his throat and gave his account of the night's activities, watching with satisfaction as his news wiped the complacent smile from Beckett's face.

Beckett regained his composure almost immediately, sitting down to his tea, deliberate in his movements. Norrington waited patiently, hands behind his back, not being invited to partake.

"You said that not _all_ the prisoners escaped." Beckett finally spoke, calmly sipping his tea, as if Norrington had merely informed him that it were raining.

"Yes, sir. The pirates that invaded the fort left Sparrow locked in his cell."

A glimmer appeared in Beckett's eyes before being suppressed. He stirred his cup and asked casually, "Any information on who was behind the raid?"

Norrington referred to his notes. "A pirate known as Red Legs, from the accounts on the street. I have detained several ruffians found in the area after the attack for further questioning."

Beckett patted his lips with a linen napkin and stood up, ringing for his servant. "You should have already seen to this, instead of wasting valuable time reporting here. I will expect a full report on this marauder and his known cohorts by ten o'clock this morning. I will personally question Sparrow myself."

--

Fort Charles – New Year's Day – Midmorning

"You! Sparrow!" The jingle of keys accompanies the voice, waking Jack from a pleasant dream.

Opening one eye he yawned. "Aye?"

The door was opened and the two soldiers at the door gestured to the pirate to follow him, shackling his hands and feet first as a precaution. They knew his reputation well; it would bode ill for them both if he were to escape on their watch.

"Ah! Another New Year!" Jack said, making pleasant conversation as they led him across the courtyard to the company offices on the opposite side.

He was taken to a small room off to one side, dank and dark, with a single barred window high up in the moldering stone walls. A single heavy wooden chair sat in the middle of the room, to which Jack was led and told to take a seat. Jack sat nonchalantly, appearing to have no cares in the world, all the while mentally scrutinizing his options, slim as they were.

The two guards, after securing Jack's arms and legs to the chair left, locking the door behind them.

Jack tested the shackles but he was held fast. "Bugger," he muttered.

About three quarters of an hour later the clanking of the key in the lock signaled the return of the guards. They were not alone this time, the sneering voice of Lord Beckett preceded the diminutive despot as he swept into the room with an air of royalty. Removing his riding cloak and gloves, he handed them to one of the guards and strolled over to where Jack was bound, tapping his walking stick along the cobbled floor.

"And so, here we are once again," he drawled, standing in front of Jack with a smug look on his face. "I believe you were going to enhance your offer, Jack. And so you have."

Jack flashed a golden grin. "Funny ol' world, isn't it?"

Beckett gave a slow smile in return. "Quite humorous, though I do not quite see how you find your present situation amusing."

Jack shrugged. "Depends on how you look at things. I have something you want, you have something I want."

Beckett nodded, "Ah yes, I believe your previous offer was to exchange information in return for the girl."

Jack spread his fingers wide, the only movement he could manage and said helpfully, "Me offer still stands. You hand me the girl and I hand over the insurgents and their leader Greaves. Bloody fair deal if you ask me."

Beckett just smiled.

Crossing over to the door he opened it and spoke to someone outside. Moments later the door was opened once again to admit Beckett's clerk Mercer who had a firm hand clamped around the arm of the girl herself. Cowed and cringing she was roughly dragged in front of Jack where she was forced to her knees before him. Jack kept his face emotionless, concealing his disgust and alarm at her appearance.

"Well, here she is, Jack. The piece you've bargained for." Beckett took his walking stick and placed it under the girl's chin, raising her face so that he could look into her eyes. "She's still a bit of useful life to her. I'm sure your men will be able to put her to good use."

The girl flashed a look of alarm at the pirate strapped to the chair.

"Of course, all this depends on whether you uphold your end of the bargain." Beckett motioned with his stick to Mercer who pulled a stiletto from its sheath, and stood silently, contemplating the blade's razor-sharp edge. "Mister Mercer is quite an expert when it comes to knives," Beckett continued in a soft croon. "Perhaps you would care for a demonstration?"

Mercer quickly slipped behind Molly; pulling her head back abruptly by her hair he ran the blade along the trembling girl's throat.

"Girl won't be any good to me dead," Jack said in a casual voice, "Nor maimed. I prefer to repay her treachery in me own way."

Beckett gave a slight nod and Mercer released the girl, pocketing the knife as he stepped back.

"So tell me Jack, I am curious. What are your plans for this slattern? She must have done more than merely slight you to make you so cooperative." Beckett's voice, though smooth, held a note of skepticism.

Jack grinned then, a maniacal bearing of his teeth as he said with contempt. "Played me for a fool, she did. Not only that, but put me entire crew at risk. They are eager to return the favor."

Beckett chuckled at the look of panic on the girl's face. He found the more they squirmed in fear, the more aroused he grew. A good session with Mercer's persuasive techniques was better than any whore.

Yet Beckett was no fool. And would not be played for one, not by Jack Sparrow nor the girl. With smug satisfaction he turned to the bound pirate.

"Then I am afraid they will be disappointed. I plan to keep the girl for my own amusements. And you shall die, Jack, as promised, come dawn."


End file.
